


Uncanny

by goldandbeloved



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandbeloved/pseuds/goldandbeloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Presence.<br/>An afternoon encounter.<br/>Things held in silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncanny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



Tywin Lannister stopped believing in many things a long time ago; the Seven, the Old Gods, anything that his servants might whisper about below stairs at best would merit a sigh or a roll of the eyes.  
At best.

His children know this. 

Yet the Great Lion has become aware of an strange presence; the girl of red-fire hair and blue-fire eyes he sees, catches out of the corner of his eye around the Rock. He swears he hears little bells when she walks under her gowns, certainly the eyes and ears and hands of his golden twins (though as with anything sparkling, sensual and musical around women he suspects something to do with Tyrion. Foolish yes, supernatural, no.)  
His eyes follow her when they can.

He knows she is there with the twins. It is like three beings instead of two or simply one with two large faces, one small, shifting, becoming as he/she/they need to speak.  Tywin Lannister has never admitted this to anyone but the greatest heat of rage he ever felt was overhearing the children Cersei and Jaime’s language, words that were not real, words he would never, could never understand. Sides of the castle was one thing, but he’d done it far better. They wouldn’t whisper to each other like that again.

The Northern doll, the little wolf-that’s what they call her below stairs. He tries to remember her name but it does not stick. Wolf does. Other things do.  If she stepped through a wall or became smoke it would not surprise him. Not anymore.

The afternoon in his study; he was making lists, planning, thinking in the deep orderly silence, words and figures click-clacking smoothly into place-and then the sound of bells. 

She was there, crawling slowly across the floor, paced like a wolf, a great cat, moving smoothly, an uncaged beast. "A cat may look at a king." the Old Lion thought and for a moment thought to strike her down. By then she’d already reached him and been rubbing against his boots, her cheek to the leather.

(He never came to her, never welcomed her, never feasted her. If he did not acknowledge the twins’ presence he would not hers. And yet here she is.)

His hand reaches down unthinkingly and he feels the tip of her pink pointed tongue against his fingers. He does not smile but he does sigh when she licks, kittenishly teasing each fingertip, rubbing her head against his inner thigh because somehow his legs are parted. Somehow.

Enchanted is a fool’s word. Lannisters do not act like fools. 

But he sighed again at the slip of each finger into her mouth, velvet, damp, sweet-wanted to ask her what she thought she was doing but again he did not, just closed his eyes, the girl, the girl...

and when he opens them she’s bare to the waist, skin pale as frost over red and lilac blooms, breasts firm and full, rounded and sweet. In the tangles of her red hair, her eyes  are blue fire and Tywin snarls, tries to reach out to grab her

but she’s already moving her fingers-inelegantly, inexpert but it is all the more intoxicating for it. When she’s done, her eyes are deep forest pools as she looks up at him, tilts her head and her mouth opens in a smile, guileless, sweet, innocent and it’s then as if delighted with a new treat she slips between his legs, soft slightly clumsy kisses, looks up to see if he is pleased, her not wholly steady fingers--then her mouth on his cock. 

It feels like a dream. Perhaps it is.

And so the Great Lion lies back and lets her envelop him. There are a few false starts, a bit of endearing clumsiness and then his cock is in her mouth and she is licking, teasing away as if she is working on a favorite treat and that treat-he shivers inwardly with pleasure--is him.  Swirls of her tongue around the head, silk along the length and then he’s slipped inside her perfectly, her hair like flame over his thighs, soft flame, the whiteness of her arms along his legs, hugging around to his back, the dearness of being inside her, her blue fire eyes looking up at him, wanting him to be pleased, to know she’s doing it right, little licks and the working of her head, the warm sweetness of her mouth there are no words for what she is doing to him and he swears he can smell her arousal-hot, sweet, musky yet delicate a fresh blossomed girl and he moans. 

That’s when the wolf girl smiles, moving her head back and forth, slicking his cock within her, sliding him in and out, his hips moving slowly, fucking at her, not wanting to be harsh, but as painfully gentle as she is because this is how it is right now. Tywin knows she likes to scream but this is different, this is her mouth, his cock on an afternoon that may even be a dream itself --warm sunlight and a girl from nowhere with her mouth wrapped around his hard cock.

Tywin Lannister does not smile. But he does dream.

Her soft breasts brushing against his stones, no whore’s ever taken him this deep into her mouth, made such sweet, happy little noises to be nuzzling between his legs, licking at his cock, bringing him so close then slipping him partway out to fuck back in and then the girl’s closing her lips and working him harder, so slippery and sweet and he wants to pull her hair but can’t quite and as she’s working him he comes hard within the deep sweet darkness of her mouth, emptying himself into her feeling her shudder with delight as she comes too.

(It is Sansa’s secret; she is tasting the seed which made her lovers taking it into her body forever, she is blood of their blood, she is seed of their seed, she feels the cock that made them inside her and she holds all of them close, even for that moment Tywin--proud to be such a little cub and then she shivers again as Tywin fills her mouth. She thrums with pleasure.)

Tywin pours himself into her; the girl has drained him dry and ah, it is a wish he did not know he had wished, but it is granted here in scarlet hair and eyes of blue flame and this strange marvel of a girl--who opens her mouth to show him, swallows and smiles sweetly, already covered, stands

and for a moment Tywin is afraid

but she throws her arms around his neck, kisses him on the cheeks, then on the lips just a tiny lingering one, whispers in his ear. "Thank you. Was I a good girl? Did I make Daddy happy?"

"Yes," Tywin whispers. "yes." ,the words feeling like they crack the air around him. 

"I’m so happy." she whispers back, leaning into kiss him, snuggle into his neck, lay her warm breath into his ear, then slip away, the Great Lion still shaken by her whispered "bye daddy.", what he thinks is the jingling of bells as she drifts away. 

A Lannister does not act like a fool and he does not chase her. Tywin Lannister does close and lock the study door just to make sure.  
He tries to write but cannot help but think of such a creature curled up in Ned Stark’s arms, sitting on his lap, covering his cheeks and lips with soft, sweet little kisses, thinks about her pale face nuzzling the Warden of the North’s fur cloak, wrapped up warm and safe against the cold, brushes of her already long lashes against his cheek.  
It’s thinking of that that Tywin’s hand moves and he comes again, harder than he would ever, will ever say. He cleans himself with an ironed handkerchief, refolds it so that it will be folded though it is actually more of a lump, looks at papers, scratches with his quill. 

The Great Lion thinks of her smile unreal and lovely as the sun sinks lower. Today but only today he will not roll an eye or sigh at anything he may hear. Everything will be all right tomorrow, but for tonight, his silence. 

Silence holds all.

**Author's Note:**

> NB: While this is somewhere in the universe of _The Wolf-Girl Who Longed for the Sun_ and _Lone Lion and Cub: Hellbent_ it is somewhere outside these narratives--or perhaps it is somewhere within all of them.


End file.
